Stay Away From My Brother
by Flagg1991
Summary: Lincoln and Ronnie Anne's relationship begins to blossom. Meanwhile, Lynn becomes jealous.
1. To Be His Girlfriend

Every morning, Ronnie Anne Santiago would walk the ten blocks from her house to Lincoln's and wait for him at the end of the walkway to his front porch. When he came out, they would walk the mile and a half to Royal Woods Consolidated. It was a routine she established at the beginning of the current school year when she realized seeing him in school and occasionally in the afternoons wasn't enough; she liked Lincoln, and she enjoyed spending time with him. Ronnie Anne wasn't the type of person who was open with her emotions: She had been hurt in the past, and she had learned early on that baring your heart and soul makes you look weak. She was not, as some might suspect, made of stone, and she did not reject the emotions she felt, she simply kept them to herself.

She was attracted to Lincoln Loud the first time she saw him. They were in the cafeteria at school. Her, her mother, and her brother, Bobby, had just moved to Royal Woods from East Los Angeles, and though she would never admit it to anyone (she hardly acknowledged it herself), she felt totally and absolutely alone. She knew no one here, she knew no _thing_ here. The world as she knew had come to an end and she was by herself in the wreckage. She was sitting at an empty table and trying to look tougher than she felt when she spotted him across the room, waiting in line for a tray. His snowy white hair was what drew her attention. She had never seen white hair on someone so young, and for a long moment she stared, her brow furrowed. She knew about albinos. Was he one? He didn't look like it, but she couldn't tell, so she watched him as he got his tray, waited for his food, then crossed to a table. She didn't think he was albino, but she _did_ think he was kind of cute in a dorky way: He had big brown eyes, freckles, and a little cowlick that swayed back and forth with every move he made. His face was soft, and Ronnie sensed a vulnerability in him. He was like a baby bird, and she suddenly found herself wanting to nurture him.

Instead she started bullying him.

She did this for the simple reason that Lincoln Loud inspired feelings of warmth and tenderness in her. She had never felt that way about a boy. Sure, there were others she'd liked in the past, but none of them turned her to jelly the way he did. She would catch herself staring dreamily at him in class, imagining holding him in her arms and playing with his little cowlick (how he'd giggle, and how her heart would pound!). She didn't feel tough when she looked at him, she felt...well, mushy. Soft.

Weak.

It was not liking him that bothered her. It was the _way_ she liked him, because he made her weak, and in the world from which Ronnie Anne had come, weakness makes you a target. Weak people lose their lunch money, weak people get victimized, weak people live miserable lives. She tried to make herself forget Lincoln Loud, but she couldn't. She was drawn to him like a magnet, and she realized that it was either pull his hair or run her fingers lovingly through it, so she chose the former. She shot spitballs at the back of his head, shoved a sandwich down the back of his pants, taped a KICK ME sign to his back, and even stuffed him in a locker. He would get so mad at her that his face would turn red, and sometimes, if she was sitting behind him and flicking him in the back of the neck, he'd whip around and yell. It was _so_ cute!

It wasn't until the day he asked her to meet him at his house that she realized just how much of a toll her teasing was taking on him. When he came to her, his shoulders were slumped and his eyes were wounded. He looked like a defeated man.

Ronnie was appalled. He looked so sad, and that made her feel like shit, because she didn't _mean_ to make him sad, she just...she never thought of how it might make him feel, and when it hit her just how _selfish_ that was, she crumbled inside. Where she came from, it was every man for himself. That was her normal, even though she knew deep down that it really _wasn't_ normal. Now she liked someone sensitive and gentle and ethereal, and he _needed_ her to be sensitive to his needs. To her, the "bullying" was harmless fun, but to him it must have been torment. She thought of his eyes, and that decided her. She would apologize for messing with him and try to make things right so that one day they could be together.

After school, she walked to his house, her stomach twisting with nerves. Instead of begging her (or yelling...everyone has their limits and even the most timid of people occasionally lose it), he kissed her on her lips.

When he did that, she clammed up and her brain went haywire. She panicked.

It was fight or flight with her, only in this case it was hit him or throw her arms around his neck and kiss him back. In the heat of the moment, she hit him.

It was his sisters who inspired this split-second decision. Had they been alone, maybe, she thought, she would have kissed him back, but she saw them clustered by the front door when she walked up, a sea of faces watching her intently. Without an audience, she may have given in to her emotions.

After she hit him, she fled, her being in turmoil. She remembered the way he looked up at her from the ground after she did it: His eyes brimmed with hurt – deep hurt, spiritual hurt – and he looked so small, so frail, lying there propped on his elbows. Her chest flooded with love, and she turned around. In that moment, she decided she would go back, snatch him off the ground, and give him the biggest, wettest kiss anyone ever gave anyone else. When she got there, though, he was gone, and she hung her head in misery.

Remembering the way he kissed her made her smile, though. He liked her too!

She only hoped she didn't _really_ mess it up this time. She apologized profusely, and over time they became friends. She could never quite bring herself to move their relationship forward, though, because as time passed, she realized something: She didn't like Lincoln Loud...she _loved_ him. She loved his sense of humor, she loved his kindness, she loved everything about him, and the prospect of opening her heart to _the man she absolutely loved_ scared the shit out of her. This wasn't kiddie 'I like you, do you like me?' stuff, this was _real_ , and it wasn't 'taking the next step' it was plunging headlong into a yawning abyss. She wanted Lincoln Loud. She _needed_ him. But she didn't know how to get beyond that first hump without just taking his hand and looking into his eyes and telling him, and that prospect made her shiver. This couldn't go on, though. She ached for him, to take him in her arms and hold him and make him smile and nurture and protect and love him forever and ever.

Maybe she could get away with showing him rather than telling him. Showing was easy, telling was not.

But he needed to hear it and she needed to say it.

She didn't know. She just _didn't_.

And it was in this stricken state of mind that she reached the Loud house on November 7 and waited for Lincoln, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her hoodie. Cold wind buffeted her. Dead leaves danced around her feet. She shuddered, but when Lincoln came out onto the porch, she felt warm.

She couldn't _wait_ to be his girlfriend.

* * *

Lincoln Loud was _not_ a morning person. His sisters said he looked like a zombie when he came out of his room first thing, and while that might be cliché, it was true: He literally shambled and stumbled like a zombie in an old movie. If he was feeling groggy, he would even moan and groan. "Uh-oh," Luan would say (or maybe it would be Lynn or Lucy...they _all_ loved ribbing him), "here comes Linc to eat our flesh!" They would scream and run around, and Lincoln would get so irritated he'd yell. He wasn't proud of it, but in the morning, he was simply _not_ in the mood.

The morning of November 7 was no exception. When the alarm clock went off, filling his head will its maddening _beep-beep-beep_ , he opened one eye and scowled. Fog choked his brain, and for a moment he was certain that the alarm was malfunctioning: Despite the golden autumn sunshine falling through the window, it was _not_ morning, it was midnight, and he'd only been asleep for an hour. He blinked, and the red digital numbers swam into focus. 6:30.

No. It was midnight.

He closed his eye and started to drift back to sleep, but jerked awake as the mist in his brain cleared. Damn it! He slapped the clock and sat up, his head swaying and his eyelids fighting to flutter closed. He stood, and pitched forward, crashing into the dresser and landing on the floor in a heap. A hissing, breathless cry escaped his lips as pain radiated from his shoulder. For a second he just lay there, hating life, then he pushed himself up and staggered to the door. _I should get back in bed,_ he thought as he stumbled into the hall.

Luan, Lola, Luna, and Lana were waiting in line for the bathroom. Luan turned when he came out of his room, her face turning into a mask of faux fright. "It's awake," she said.

"If we stand _really_ still, it won't eat our skin," Lola whispered.

Lincoln sighed. Can't a guy wake up in the morning and have his sisters _not_ act juvenile? Sheesh. All he wanted to do was pee and get his day started. Shaking his head, he got in line behind Luan, who leaned away from him. "It's standing right next to me, what should I do?" she whispered.

"Stop talking and it'll leave you alone," Luna replied.

"Yes," Lincoln said, "stop talking. That would be great."

"Lincoln is _no_ fun in the morning," Lola said with a _humph_.

"I know what'll brighten his mood. A joke."

"A joke will not brighten my mood, leave me alone." Lincoln crossed his arms over his scrawny chest.

"Jeez, _someone_ woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Luan said.

"He's like that every morning," Luna said. The bathroom door opened, and Lynn came out. She saw Lincoln, and grinned.

"I thought I heard the zombie apocalypse," she said. She punched him in the arm, and he stumbled. "You gotta be on your toes, bro. You never know when the hammer's gonna drop."

Lincoln rubbed his arm and took a deep breath. He was getting really tired of her stuff; she was always beating up on him. _I'm just trying to toughen you up, bro,_ she'd say when he reached his breaking point and flashed. If he was honest, that kind of hurt his feelings. Was he so pitiful and weak that someone (his _sister_ no less) felt they had to "toughen " him up?

Looking at his pigeon chest and noodle arms, he thought maybe he _was_. He knew he wasn't the strongest or most forceful person, and sometimes he suspected that he might actually _be_ weak. It kind of bothered him if he thought too much about it, but...so what? He was who he was and he was comfortable enough with that. It's not like he was a quivering little coward or anything. If he had to fight, he'd fight...though he didn't like to, and wanted to avoid that kind of the thing.

When his turn for the bathroom finally came, he scurried in, did his business, and then went back to his room, where he dressed in a pair of jeans and an orange polo shirt. He glanced out the window; the dying leaves shook on the branches, so it was windy, but the sun looked warm. He got up, lifted the sash, and stuck his head out.

It was _cold_.

He closed the window, sat down once more, and pulled his shoes on. He was _not_ in the mood for cold. When he was done, he grabbed his coat from the hook on the back of the door and went downstairs, where his sisters were gathered at the dining room table for breakfast. As he approached he heard laughing, yelling, and bickering. Ah, a normal morning in the Loud house. He wondered if they were going to make fun of him today, or if it was someone else's turn. See, siblings mess with each other...in every culture, nation, and time period. That's just how it goes. Sometimes, when they picked on Lincoln, he took it personal and let it get to him, but that's only because instead of one or two siblings messing with him at a given time, he had six, or eight. They could be a pack of sharks. Then again, when it was Luan's day, or Lynn's, or Lola's, he was part of that pack.

When he entered the dining room, he knew whose day it was: Luna's. "Mick Swagger is _literally_ the oldest dude ever," Lori said to the table in general. "And he wears belly shirts. Gross."

"Wrinkled flab bouncing with the sway of his hips," Lisa said, and shivered.

"I bet he stuffs socks down the front of his pants because he's small," Lynn said.

Luna shook her head and ate her breakfast. She wasn't often on the menu because she was so easygoing that she was no fun to pick on. She didn't blow up like him, or Lucy, or Lynn, and she didn't get all red-faced and huffy like Lola. She just shrugged her shoulders and took it. Sometimes she even laughed along with them.

"Hasn't he been married a bunch of times?" Lola asked. "I bet that's why. His wives see how shriveled it is and divorce him."

Everyone laughed, including Luna.

In the kitchen, Lincoln filled a bowl with Raisin Bran, topped it with milk, then walked into the dining room, taking a seat next to Lucy.

"Speaking of shriveled and small," Lynn said, "how's it going, Linc?"

"Just fine," Lincoln said and dug in.

"His arms are so dangly," Lana said. "I'd be embarrassed."

"Not to mention his legs," Lori added, "they're, like, pencils."

Lincoln glanced at Lori's legs under the table. She didn't have much room to talk. He could say something about her being small, but she'd probably get _all_ bent out of shape.

"So skinny," Luan shook her head. "Hey, Linc, the Olsen twins called: They want their eating disorder back."

Everyone laughed. He looked up, his mind working. He could bury them all. He really could. And he should, he really wasn't in the mood for this.

"Small, small, small," Lori said, "like a broken little duckling."

Alright. He turned to Lori. "Lori, you want to talk about small? You're seventeen and your tits look like mosquito bumps. _I_ have bigger breasts than you."

Her eyes went wide, and Lynn laughed.

"And you," he said turning to Lynn, "...you _wish_ yours were as big as Lori's."

Her smile dropped. "Hey," she said.

He looked at Luan next. "And you look like a beaver."

She winced.

Leni laughed. "LOL!"

"Shut up, Leni; I guarantee you everything everyone's said at this table this morning soared right over your blonde head."

"You're an asshole," Luan said tightly and got up.

"My tits are _not_ that small," Lori said, looking worriedly down at her chest. "It's just this shirt."

Lynn leaned across the table, her eyes hard...but a little grin spread across her face. "It's nice to see you growing a set, Lincoln." She socked him in the arm and got up.

"Man, that was harsh," Luna said, shaking her head.

"They deserved it," Lucy replied.

Luna chuckled. "Yeah they did."

When he was done, Lincoln put his bowl in the sink and went into the living room. Luan was standing by the front door, glaring at him, her arms crossed. Lincoln sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, "but you were making fun of _me._ "

"Yeah? Well I'm sensitive about my teeth."

"You don't think I'm sensitive about being small? I'm a boy and almost _all_ of my sisters are bigger and stronger than me. Even Lola."

Luan blinked and her scowl softened. "Well...I'm sorry."

"So am I."

She grabbed her books and left the house while Lincoln looked around for his backpack. Where was it? Oh, here, hanging on the coat rack. He got it, slipped his arms through the straps, and went outside. When he saw Ronnie Anne Santiago standing on the sidewalk, his mood radically improved; the autumn sun shimmered in her black hair, and when she lifted her head, it touched her eyes, which sparkled. The corner of her lips turned up, and his heart stopped for just a second, the way it did every morning when he saw her waiting for him.

Lincoln liked Ronnie Anne. He _really_ liked her. He liked her even before he knew he liked her. When he first met her, she was a bully...pure and simple. She shot spitballs at the back of his head, stuck out her foot and tripped him when he passed, stole things from his desk when he wasn't looking. At first it really got to him because here was _another_ tougher-than-him girl, and while he was comfortable not being a chest pounding alpha male type, it _did_ bother him that almost literally _every_ girl he knew was tougher than he was. That's enough to make you feel like a total loser.

The thing was...he _liked_ it when she picked on him, because no girl had ever paid attention to him. When it came to other girls, he might as well have not existed. But to Ronnie Anne, he warranted a pretty impressive amount of time and energy, and it felt nice. It didn't hurt that she was beautiful, with liquid dark eyes, warm, sun-kissed skin, and flowing black hair. The thing that bothered him so much toward the end of it was not that she was bullying him per se, it was the knowledge that that's all their relationship would ever be. She was an angel and he couldn't have her.

But things changed after he kissed her and she punched him. Over time, he came to the heart-stopping realization that she liked him too. She couldn't admit it, though. She was a mystery to him and he was still trying to figure her out, but she had this fear of being forthright with her emotions. She made fun of Bobby for being so cutesy with Lori, calling him weak and gushy, and Lincoln suspected she was afraid of being weak and gushy herself. He couldn't lie, Bobby and Lori _really_ laid it on thick, but to Ronnie Anne, you were either outwardly cutsey and mushy, or outwardly cold and steely. There was no middle ground.

To be honest, the thought of taming the beast that was Ronnie Ann Santiago, of turning her into a wide-eyed, mushy-gushy girl appealed to Lincoln. What an accomplishment _that_ would be.

Maybe he would try...

 **Here it is, the long awaited Lincoln x Ronnie Anne story. Several people requested this, but I was already either working on it or planning it. That includes Lynn being involved. Someone asked for that specifically...little did they know, she already was. Great minds think alike. I owe a debt of gratitude to AberrantScript. It was talking about Ronnie Anne with him that got me really fired up to write her character. I think he also suggested Lynn be involved, an idea I really liked because they're very similar and pretty evenly matched. Thanks, AS!**


	2. Someone Like Me

Lynn Loud grabbed her gym bag from her room (she carried this thing every day, and every day she almost walked out the door without it) and went down the stairs. The living room was empty, and before she went out the door, she called out to make sure she was really the last one out.

On the porch, she locked the door and turned, stopping dead when she saw her brother and Ronnie Anne Santiago walking away. Her eyes narrowed and her teeth bared.

She didn't like Ronnie Anne. One day not that long ago, she punched Lincoln in the face and left him in a heap on the ground. That alone was enough to make Lynn hate her, but then, suddenly, she and Lincoln were friends, and it was obvious to everyone around them that they liked each other. That _really_ made Lynn mad, because people like Ronnie Anne, bullies, don't understand Lincoln. Lynn did. He was sensitive and kind and fragile, like a Faberge egg, and in this world, people like that are victims.

That's why she worked to toughen him up. Sure, you can be kind and nice and considerate the way he was, but you had to be careful, because there was always someone looking to take advantage of you. It's like football: Everywhere you turn, there's a guy coming after the ball, and if you aren't physically and mentally tough, you're screwed. She tried to tell him this, she tried to make him understand _why_ she did the things she did, but he didn't get it. Plus...she wasn't the best at articulating what she was thinking and feeling. She loved Lincoln and she just wanted him to be okay. That's all.

The thing that scared her was this: He was just a nice guy. Full stop. You could punch him in the arm until he became so calloused it could deflect a bullet, you could build him into a musclebound giant, you could sit him down and tell him about every way you can be hurt, screwed, used, and taken advantage of, and in the end...he would still be a nice guy because that's that the way he was.

And you know what they say about nice guys: They finish last. From what Lynn had seen of life in her near fourteen years, they were right. Nice guys (and gals) _always_ got the shaft. It pissed Lynn off, but what could you do? You're tough or you're lunch.

Unfortunately, her brother was lunch.

But lucky for him, she wouldn't let him be served. Oh no. Not Lincoln. Lincoln was special. She _loved_ Lincoln, and there was no way in hell she was just going stand by while the world made a meal out of him.

Which is why she didn't want him hanging around with Ronnie Anne Santiago.

It was clear that he liked her, and that on some level she liked him too, but you know what? The guy who comes home drunk and beats the shit out of his wife likes her on some level too, the woman who nags her husband and calls him names every day for forty years until he finally keels over from a heart attack, free at last (thank God!)...somewhere deep down, she likes him too. Liking someone, hell, _loving_ someone doesn't mean you treat them right. In human relationships, there is always a dominant and a submissive, one who is in charge (and often _relishes_ being in charge), and one who is _not_. Sexual relationships, marriages, friendships, it didn't matter, it was always the same. To Lynn, the idea of being submissive, of being, say, a fifties housewife completely under the control of her husband, was intolerable. It made her sick. Being the submissive to a stronger person is a fate worse than death, and Ronnie Anne was the stronger of the two.

Lynn didn't like that. She would feel differently if Ronnie didn't punch him in the face, but she did, and Lynn couldn't help but see that as a harbinger of their entire relationship. Ronnie aggressive and forceful, Lincoln meek and putting up with her shit because he was a nice guy and loved her. Lynn didn't want that for her brother. She wanted better, and she knew he could _do_ better.

Sighing, she hefted her gym bag and started for school.

* * *

Ronnie Anne's grin widened when Lincoln walked up. "Morning, lame-o. Nice bags." She punched him in exactly the same spot Lynn punched him earlier, and it took all he had not to wince or cry out.

"They're designer," he said as they started walking. A cold wind blew her hair against the side of his face, and he could smell her shampoo. It was intoxicating.

"You having trouble sleeping?" she asked.

"Not really," he said. When the words were out he realized he should have said something about her being in his mind and keeping him awake. Would it sound sweet or creepy, though? He didn't want it to sound creepy. He wanted to make her turn to mush, not file a restraining order. "You know me and mornings."

"You don't get along, right? Neither do _me_ and mornings."

"I guess that's something we have in common," he said, and stole a quick glance at her. Was that touch of red on her face from the wind or from him?

An idea struck him, and he reached out and touched her cheek, grazing his fingers lightly along her flesh. She pulled instinctively away. "What are you doing?" she cried.

"I just wanted to see how cold you are. Your face is red."

"You ever hear of asking?" she, looking away; Lincoln could hear her smile anyway.

"Eh," was all he could think to say.

"How would you like it if _I_ did that to _you_?" Before he could reply, her hand was pressed to his face, and he head was against his shoulder. Her touch was warm and surprisingly gentle. Or was he only perceiving it that way?

"I didn't do that to you," he said.

"Pretty much."

"No," he said, "I touched you. You're _pushing_ me."

She laughed. "No, I'm not."

"I'm about to fall in to the street. What if a car comes along and hits me?"

"Eh. I'll visit you in the hospital."

He shot his hand out and dug it into her soft side. She uttered a high-pitched squeal and jumped back. "Hey! I'm ticklish!"

A devilish grin spread across Lincoln's face. "Oh, you are?"

"Lincoln, you better not..." she started, but he sprang at her, and she ducked. "Lincoln! Knock it off!" she laughed.

He went after her again, and she evaded again, but this time her feet tangled and she fell back onto the soft grass at the edge of someone's lawn. Lincoln's heart crashed to a halt. "Are you alright?" he asked quickly.

"I'm fine," she said, panting. "Now help me up, jerk."

He reached out and she took his hand. In that moment their eyes locked, and something passed between them. Ronnie felt it, too; for a second, she simply looked at him, her eyes searching his, her heart suddenly racing. She squeezed his hand, and he brushed her knuckles with his thumb. A ghost of a smile touched his lips, and her face turned a beautiful shade of red. She ducked her head, breaking eye contact. "Don't just stand there. Help me up."

Coming out of his reprieve, he pulled her to her feet. Standing, her face bare inches from his. A gust of wind tossed her hair, and it tickled his cheek. She brushed it out of her face and they gazed deeply into each other's eyes.

Her eyes darted from his eyes to his lips and back again. He smiled at her, and she couldn't have stopped herself if she wanted to; she leaned gently in, and he did likewise, the tips of their noses brushing and their lips meeting. Blood crashed in her temples as she parted his lips with her tongue and tentatively explored his mouth. He wrapped his tongue around hers, and her knees went weak. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeper, more urgently, their teeth scraping together. He caressed the side of her face and slipped his hand into her hair, his fingertips grazing her scalp and sending tendrils of electricity down her spine. She pulled away from him and rested her head against his chest: She could feel a stupid smile on her face.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her to him as the cold wind blew around them: She felt so warm in his embrace. She looked up at him, and his smile looked as goofy and lopsided as hers felt. She didn't care, though. It was okay, because Lincoln liked her and she liked him.

"That was pretty nice," she said breathlessly. "You could use some work, though."

"Yeah?" he asked.

She nodded. "We can practice." She hugged him then shoved him away. "Now come on, you're gonna make us late."

Ronnie walked the rest of the way on gelatinous knees. She still couldn't believe that that actually happened, and when she thought about it, her heart soared. She took Lincoln's hand in hers and threaded her fingers through his. He looked at her, a little smile crossing his lips. She glanced at him. "What?"

"Ronnie Anne Santiago is holding my hand," he said. "I never thought I'd see the day."

She shrugged. "Gotta show everyone you belong to me."

"Is that so?"

She nodded. "You're my boyfriend. Right?"

Lincoln scrunched his lips and rolled his eyes up toward the sky. "Hmmm."

She squeezed his hand as hard as she could and cocked her head , her lips pursed and the corner of her lips turned up. "Ow, alright!" he laughed. "You're my girlfriend."

Hearing that made her heart bounce. She smiled and held his hand tighter. "You know what, lame-o?"

"What?"

"I'm pretty happy to hear you say that."

"I'm pretty happy to say it," he admitted.

When they reached the school, she took him in her arms and hugged him, her hand instantly reaching up to flick his upturned tuft of hair. He giggled. She never imagined it would feel _this_ good to hold him, to cradle him in her arms and pour out her love. She vowed then and there to always love Lincoln, to always protect him, and to always nurture him. He really _did_ belong to her, and she intended to provide everything his heart, soul, and body could ever need.

Because that's what you do when you love someone.

* * *

Royal Woods Consolidated is on Schoolhouse Road (original, huh?) next to a stand of forest a mile wide. Lynn usually walked with her other siblings, but today she found herself alone, which happened from time-to-time. She was lost in thought, her gaze downcast and her thumbs jammed through the straps of her gym bag, and didn't see Lincoln and Ronnie Anne ahead until she was almost on top of them. At the last minute, she glanced up, and froze when she saw what they were doing. Kissing. Passionately. Her arms were around his neck and his hands were in her hair, long black strands spilling through his fingers. Lynn's stomach turned, and when the kiss broke, she found herself ducking behind a bush, her body moving on pure instinct.

"That was pretty nice," she heard Ronnie Anne pant. "You could use some work, though."

Lynn's fist unconsciously balled, her fingernails digging into the soft padding of her palm.

"Yeah?" Lincoln asked.

"We can practice...now come on, you're gonna make us late."

Lynn winced at a pain in her jaw, and realized that she was grinding her teeth together. She poked her head out from behind the bush, and saw her brother and that controlling bitch walking away.

Great, she thought with an angry sigh, she was sinking her claws in. By this time next year, Lincoln would be doing her laundry, cleaning her house, and rushing to put her dinner on the table before she came home, because if Ronnie Anne doesn't have her dinner on the table, there will be hell to pay.

It was inevitable. In every human relationship, there is a dom and a sub. That's just how it works. Lincoln could find a sub to his dom if he looked, but subs are almost always attracted to doms. What Lynn saw was nature taking its course.

Well, if Lincoln needed a dominate partner, he could do better than Ronnie Anne Santiago. He needed...

 _Someone like me._


	3. Heaven and Hell

Ronnie Anne Santiago passed the day in a fog. She had heard about people having their 'head in the clouds' but she had never experienced it herself before today. Normally, she went through the halls of Royal Woods Consolidated with a scowl on her face; it was not a conscious expression, it was a case of making a face and having it set like your mother warned you it would. Today, however, she was smiling, and you know what? She didn't care who saw. She was over the moon and if someone had a problem with it, well, let them come and they could sort it out. Right now, she was too happy to worry about what a bunch of punk ass kids thought anyway. Her happiness had been steadily growing since she kissed Lincoln, and if it kept up, she might explode in giddy laughter.

Never in a million years did she imagine she would feel _this_ good; she never thought she would be so damn _happy_ that she wouldn't give a flying shit what anyone thought or said. God, if she had even the _slightest_ idea what kind of nirvana this was, she would have kissed Lincoln months ago.

She smiled at how stupid she'd been. _Oh, I'm so, so, so tough and I can't let anyone know I'm a human being dur-de-dur_. Sitting in history, the one class of the day that she didn't have with Lincoln, she rested her chin in her palm and counted down the minutes, and the seconds, until lunch, when she could see him again. Right now she had fifteen minutes and forty-five seconds. Maybe there were some micro and milliseconds in there too, she didn't really know, nor did she care. Fifteen whole minutes. Ugh. She looked away from the clock and tried to focus on the teacher. She never liked history. Talk about boring. Someone did something in 178something and something. Pffft. When you get right down to it, learning history is about rote memorization. It's not like math; math challenges you and gets your brain working. It's kind of like exercise...while history is sitting on the couch and stuffing Doritos in your face. She looked at the clock.

Thirteen minutes. She sighed and rested her head against the desk. Thirteen minutes is nothing when you're having fun, you ever noticed that? When you're playing a video game or on the computer, a half hour, hell, an _hour,_ blasts by and you realize too late that it's three in the morning and you have to be up for school in three and a half hours (she'd done that more times than she could count). When you're waiting to see the boy you like, though, thirteen minutes might as well be thirteen hours. Thirteen long, dark, cold, miserable hours.

She lifted her head up and glanced at the clock. Oh, boy, only _twelve_ minutes now. Time's really flying now.

What was Lincoln doing right now? Was he thinking of her the way she was thinking of him? Was he silently counting down the minutes until they could be together? She hoped he was. She _thought_ he was. He liked her just as much as she liked him, right? Because it would suck if she was so happy and giddy only to have him dump her.

That thought made her stomach twist. _Don't think like that. Of course he likes you! He liked you this whole time!_

Okay, yeah, but Lincoln was so precious to her and the thought of losing him was enough to make her sick. And how stupid she would look: All smiling and goofy and _look at her, she doesn't know I'm going to dump her, what an idiot.  
_

She drew a deep breath, her chest suddenly tight and her mood souring. That wasn't going to happen. Lincoln wasn't like that. He was a great, sensitive, caring guy. He would _never_ hurt her. He was...

...he was everything she needed.

That thought was wholly unbidden and gave her pause. Everything she needed? What did that even mean? Only she knew damn well what it meant. The human heart is a puzzle piece that fits one other heart to form a whole. Lincoln was her other half, he was the caring, considerate, thoughtful, sensitive part of her. She spent all this time thinking that Lincoln needed her to hold and protect him, and maybe he did, but she needed him to hold her hand and look into her eyes just as badly...if not more.

She needed him and he needed her.

They were soulmates.

She shuddered. Now _that's_ mushy.

Only it was true.

One soul in two bodies.

 _Ahhhh, you sound like a romance novel!_

Damn you, Lincoln. Next I'll be calling your eyes "limpid pools" and reading you poetry. Call me Danielle Steele.

She thought of Bobby and Lori. How "cutesy" they were together. Sugar boo-boo bear this and honey that. She imagined being like that with Lincoln and shivered. Maybe being a _little_ mushy was okay now and then, especially when you felt _so_ good and were _so_ in love, but Bobby and Lori _really_ took it too far. Ronnie thought of it this way: She liked chocolate cake, but every once in a while she came across one that was so _rich_ and _sweet_ that even she couldn't finish it, and when it came to chocolate cake, she usually finished hers and yours too.

Nine minutes. Sigh. Hurry up, time, go faster.

She balled her hands on the desk and tapped the index finger of each hand together in a steady beat. Time, ticking away the moments that make up a dull day. Hmm, where had she heard that? Was it in a song? A TV commercial? She tried to remember, but the only thing she could hear was the sound of Lincoln's musical laughter, and that made her sigh. He was so cute. She wanted to kiss him again. Very badly. She glanced at the clock. Seven minutes.

Ugh! Hurry up, goddamn it!

When the bell finally rang, she leapt up from her chair and knocked some girl out of the way. "Move," she said, and hurried into the hall. She was one of the first to reach the cafeteria, so she didn't have to wait in line for long. She grabbed her tray, let a line of lunch ladies slop crap onto it (ugh, what _is_ this shit, Salisbury steak?), then went to the table where she, Clyde, and Lincoln usually sat. She waited for Lincoln, scanning the faces coming in from the hall. When she saw him, a big smile crossed her face and she waved. He saw her, grinned, and waved back.

He waited in line (hurry up, assholes, you're keeping my Lincoln away from me!), got his tray, then came over. "Hey," she said when he sat down.

"Hey," he replied.

"How's it going?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Better now."

She giggled. Actually giggled. She should punch him just to get her groove back, but instead she looked coyly away. She tried to think of something to say, but she found that she couldn't. Jesus, Lincoln, look what you're doing to me.

"Ready for that math test tomorrow?" she finally asked.

Lincoln chuckled humorlessly as he opened his milk. "No."

"Come on, Linc," she said, "it's not that hard."

"Says you," he said. "Math is my mortal enemy." He took a long drink.

"I thought that was the Card Counter or the Card Shark or whatever."

"You're funny," he smiled.

Ronnie opened her mouth to reply, but Clyde dropped into the seat next to Lincoln with a high-pitched and annoying, "Hey, buddy!" Ronnie rolled her eyes.

"Hey, Clyde, how's it going?"

"Pretty good. I'm ready for that math test tomorrow."

"See?" Ronnie asked. "Even McBride gets it."

"I'm just not good at it," he said. "I _do_ need to study, though. Not looking forward to that."

"I'll help you," Ronnie blurted. "We can...like...study together." She could feel her cheeks beginning to burn. Gee, all she did was suggest they study together. It wasn't the first time.

Then again...things were different now.

There would probably be a lot more kissing involved.

"Sure," Lincoln said with a twinkle in his eye. He reached across the table and took her hand, making her heart leap. "I'd like that. _A lot_."

She stared into his eyes, her heart beginning to race. She was aware of Clyde looking at them with furrowed brows, but she didn't care. Clyde McBride didn't exist right now, nothing did, only her and Lincoln. She felt another giggle building in her throat and swallowed it. Why was her throat so _dry?_ Why couldn't she breathe? She glanced away. "I would too," she said.

Clyde shook his head and started eating his lunch. It sure took them long enough...

* * *

Lynn Loud was restless that day. She was usually hyper-focused in class because if she let her grades slip, she wouldn't be allowed to play sports, and without sports, her life was meaningless. Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic: Without sports life would be a very dull, boring place.

Today, however, she found her mind wandering. She kept going back to Lincoln and Ronnie Anne kissing on the sidewalk, and every time that image replayed in her head, she felt a mixture of emotions she couldn't understand. Oh, she recognized the anger, but what about the other ones? She thought one was hurt, and...she didn't know about the other ones. She didn't _want_ to know. How she felt didn't matter right now. What mattered was that Lincoln was letting himself get mixed up with a girl who would run over top of him like she was a Mac truck and he a baby duckling. She had to stop this. She had to protect her brother. He needed her.

And she needed him.

She couldn't lose him to Ronnie Anne, and that's exactly what would happen. He would never have time for her, because he would be busy with Ronnie. She would gobble up every free moment he had. He wouldn't be able to play football with her, or basketball, or ride bikes...she would never see him, and for some reason that made Lynn so sad she wanted to cry.

It also made her _mad_. Why did she have to come along and single out Lincoln? Yeah, she got it, she wanted someone weaker than her, great, but there were plenty of other boys out there much, much weaker and more timid than Lincoln, why not snag one of them?

By the end of the day, Lynn was crackling with nervous energy. At football practice, she ran faster and hit harder than normal. She tackled Geena Parker so hard she flew out of her cleats. "Goddamn, Loud," Coach Peters said as she helped Geena up. "You're supposed to tackle her, not send her into orbit."

"Sorry," Lynn said. She didn't mean to hit her that hard, but when you're filled with anger like she was now, you tend you lose yourself.

Five minutes later, though, she did it again, this time spearing Carrie Keenan so hard her helmet came off and bounced across the turf.

"Alright, that's enough of this shit, Loud," Coach Peters said angrily, "you're gonna kill someone. Hit the shower."

"But it's football, you're supposed to..."

"Hit the shower!"

Lynn sighed. Fine. In the locker room, she grabbed her towel from her locker and went into the shower room. She stood under a nozzle and let tepid water cascade over her naked body. Why couldn't Lincoln see what Ronnie was after? Why was he letting her lead him by the nose like this? She understood he needed a dominant partner, but damn. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

She imagined how unhappy he would eventually be, and she sighed sadly. When she was done, she toweled off, got dressed, and walked home through the chilly afternoon: Cold wind payed in her hair and leaves danced around her feet. The light was scarlet and weak, shadows growing long even though it was barely after five. Lynn hated winter. Sure, she liked playing ice hockey and stuff, but everything always felt so...dead. And bleak.

She hoped Lincoln was home. She wanted to talk to him. Or maybe she'd hold off on the talking and they could play football or something and just...enjoy being together. She came through the door and peeled off her backpack, a little smile playing at the corner of her lips. That smile fell, however, when she saw Ronnie Anne Santiago sitting on the couch. Lynn's eyes narrowed and her lips set in a grimace. Ronnie turned to look, her face open and soft: When hers and Lynn's eyes locked, however, her brow knitted downward.

For a moment Lynn stared daggers at her, then, with an exhalation, she went upstairs. Lincoln's voice followed her. "Pizza rolls are done."

 _She's making him cook for her in his own home. What's next, chain him to the stove and leave him barefoot and pregnant?_

In her room, Lynn sat heavily on her bed.

It was already starting. Pretty soon, Lincoln would be a rare sight.

Tears flooded Lynn's eyes, and if Lucy wasn't right there, sitting on her bed and reading a book, she would have let them come. Instead, she blinked them away.

She wasn't aware of the sidelong glance Lucy shot her. Lynn was upset about something, and Lucy didn't like that. She loved Lynn, and when Lynn was upset, _she_ was upset.

* * *

"Pizza rolls are done," Lincoln said, bringing Ronnie Anne out of her reprieve. She turned to Lincoln, who was coming in from the kitchen, a plate laden with pizza rolls in his oven-mitted hand. When they came in, he offered to make them a snack, and wouldn't take no for an answer when she told him she wasn't really hungry. Smelling the hot, cheesy-and-pepperoniy goodness, however, her stomach rumbled.

"What's with your sister?" she asked as Lincoln sat the plate on the coffee table and plopped down next to her.

"Which one?" Lincoln said. "I have fifty of them."

"Lynn. She just gave me a dirty look and stomped up the stairs." Ronnie Anne had not spent much time around Lincoln's sisters. She knew Lori fairly well because she was at her house almost as often as she was at her own, but beyond that, they were all one dimensional caricatures to her: Lola the pageant princess, Lynn the jock, Leni the airhead. Why Lynn shot daggers at her was a mystery, but she was _lucky_ Ronnie was in a good mood, because any other time, they would have had words.

"I couldn't tell you," Lincoln said, stripping the mitt off his hand and tossing it onto the table. "Sometimes they get a hair across their butt and that's all it takes." He stopped. "Or it could...you know..."

Ronnie looked at him and cocked her eyebrow. "No, I _don't."_

His cheeks flushed and he looked away, his hand fluttering to the back of his neck. Ronnie couldn't help but grin at how cute he was when he was embarrassed. "You know...that time...of the month."

"You mean she might be on her period?"

Lincoln nodded, still blushing.

Ronnie Anne grinned and leaned in. "Like she's bleeding...from her... _vagina_." She was so close to his cheek when she spoke the last word that he shuddered against her warm breath.

His face was on fire and he looked down at his hands, which twisted in his lap. She could see a little smile on his lips, though. She planted a kiss on his cheek and drew back. "It _does_ happen, Linc," she said, and popped a pizza bite into her mouth.

"Doesn't mean I like to think about it," Lincoln said. He grabbed a pizza bite and bit it: Cheesy goop shot out and landed on the table.

Ronnie laughed. " _That_ was smart."

Lincoln sighed. "I never learn."

"Speaking of learning," Ronnie said, "how about we hit those books? That's why we're here, right?" She grabbed a couple more pizza rolls and tossed them into her mouth.

"In a minute," Lincoln said. "I'd like to finish my snack."

He picked up another pizza roll and put it into his mouth with a flourish.

"You mean you want to stall because you don't like math."

He shrugged. "Maybe," he said and ate another pizza roll.

"Well, I'm not letting you stall because this is important. If you flunk you're gonna spend the whole summer in school and not having fun with me, so bring those pizza rolls upstairs." She grabbed her backpack and stood up. Lincoln slumped his shoulders, and she laughed. "Come on." She grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him to his feet.

"Okay, okay," she said, grabbing his own backpack and the plate. "Let's go."

In his room, Lincoln kicked out of his shoes and sat on the edge of his bed. He plucked a pizza roll off the plate and put it into his mouth. He didn't particularly like these things, but he was so hungry when he got home from school that he'd eat tree bark if he had to. Ronnie took her shoes off and sat next to him. "Okay, what are you having trouble with?"

"All of it," Lincoln said around a mouthful of food.

Ronnie sighed. "You're lucky I like you." She snatched the plate away and sat it by his pillow.

"Hey."

"Hay if for horses, Loud." She grabbed his backpack, pulled out his book, and shoved it into his hands. "Alright, let's do this."

They stretched out side-by-side on their stomachs, their books open on the bed before them. Ronnie Anne bent her knees and kicked her legs back and forth. She glanced over at Lincoln, and caught him staring at her. She blushed and looked away. "You need to be looking at your book and not at me," she said.

"I don't like looking at my book," Lincoln said, "but I like looking at you."

She giggled. "You're pretty charming for a lame-o."

He shrugged. "I just say what I feel."

"Yeah?" Ronnie asked, flipping a page just so she had something to do. "I always admired that about you. I have a hard time doing that."

"I know," he said. "It's kind of cute."

She looked at him. "Cute?"

"You remind me of Hank Hill. The way he's so uncomfortable with emotions. 'I feel somethin' and I don't like it, I tell ya h'what.'"

Ronnie laughed long and hard, burying her face in his cover. "I am _not_ Hank Hill," she finally said, brushing a tear away from her cheek.

"I didn't say you were," he replied. "Just that you remind me of him. You're a lot prettier than he is."

Ronnie's heart melted. Literally melted. She could feel it turning to warm goo in her chest. She looked into Lincoln's eyes. So big, so bright, his smile so cocky. God, she loved him. She was so close to saying it, too; three simple words danced on the tip of her tongue. How would he react?

She decided she wanted to see. "Lincoln," she said, and touched his face. "I love you."

His eyes slightly widened and his breathing stopped dead. Suddenly terror filled her and she regretted saying it.

Until he touched her face and said, "Ronnie...I love you too."

They leaned into each other's lips and kissed, their tongues sliding over one another in a slow, sensual waltz. She drew him closer and held him as she prodded every crevice of his mouth, tasting him, drinking him, getting drunk on him. Her heart beat faster and faster until it was slamming against her ribcage. She loved this. Being close to him. Being _connected to_ him. Holding him. Loving him. She pressed her body against his, and the way his heart beat next to hers made her weak and lightheaded. The kiss broke, and he kissed her neck, his lips pressing against her throbbing pulse. She sighed as fire filled her stomach, a burning pressure she did not quite understand.

He kissed higher, on her ear, behind her ear, his hand brushing her hair back. She felt a tingling sensation in her loins, and was vaguely aware that she felt damp. _Did he make me piss myself?_ He was on top of her now, and his crotch brushed again hers: Lightning bolts shot from the secret well between her thighs. She cried out and he stopped.

"Are you okay?" he panted.

"I don't know..." she said, her mouth dry. "Yes."

"Do you want me to stop?"

She swallowed hard and thought about it. No, she didn't, because it felt so good, so right, like nature was taking its course, and you don't stand in the way of nature. A part of her did, because she was not stupid: She had a vague idea where this was heading..

She didn't care, though. "No," she said, and slipped her hands under his shirt: His flesh was warm and soft. He leaned in and kissed her, lip tongue passing her lips and flicking across hers. His hand fluttered to her chest and laid across her left breast. Her heart crashed against his palm. She spread her legs wider, and when he shifted, his erection scraped against her, and she cried out into his mouth. Her underwear, her pants, and his underwear and pants separated them. Four layers, four thin, easily removable layers.

Speaking of underwear, hers were soaked and his were probably going to split. She imagined what it would feel like as his crowned head pushed past her lips and into her passage, and shuddered.

"Hey, Linc...oh shit!"

Lincoln jumped off of her and she sat bolt upright. Luna was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide. Lincoln shifted to hide his erection, and Ronnie scooted up and closed her legs, horrified that Luna might have seen the dark patch she was certain must have bled through her pants.

"Mom...uh...mom says it's time for Ronnie to go home, it's...uh...almost dinner." She rubbed the side of her head and stared at the window, unable to make eye contact.

"Alright," Lincoln said around a lump in his throat.

"So...uh...yeah."

With that, she turned and hurried away.

Lincoln sighed and tossed a glance over his shoulders. Ronnie was pulling her shoes on. During their...um...play, a few strands of her black hair had come free from her ponytail and lay across her forehead, partially veiling her eyes. She glanced up at him, then quickly back down.

"Hey," he said, feeling bad, "I'm sorry..."

"It's fine," she said. She grabbed her backpack, stood, and shoved her book into it. She smiled. "Really."

He sighed and bowed his shoulders.

She came up and stood in front of him. He looked up, and she took his hands. "I...uh..." her eyes darted away, but then met his as though she were exerting great effort to focus. "I really enjoyed myself today." She leaned in, and they kissed again. She pulled away. "See you tomorrow." She punched him in the arm, then was gone.

For a moment Lincoln sat on the edge of his bed, his erection slowly diminishing and his heart staggering. Then, with a sigh, he got up and went into the hall. Luna was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed. She had a little smile on her face. "Please don't give me a hard time," Lincoln sighed.

She shook her head. "I don't know whether to be proud of you or mad at you."

"We were just kissing."

"That was a hell of kiss, bro." Her smile faltered. "Just...uh...be safe."

Lincoln rolled his eyes. "Sure thing," he said. There was no use in arguing. He started down the stairs, and Luna followed. Neither one of them saw Lynn staring through the crack of her door, her brows furrowed angrily...


	4. What's Your Problem?

Ronnie Anne Santiago did not have vivid dreams. In fact, she rarely dreamt at all. That night, however, her mind spun a fantasy that was so real, so lifelike, that when she woke, she could almost swear that it was a memory and not a dream. In it, she and Lincoln were back in his bed, their tongues grappling hungrily, just as they had in real life, only in the dream, Luna didn't interrupt them. Lincoln touched her in places no boy had ever touched her before, his lips kissed places that lips had never kissed, and right before she woke up, she started to touch him.

She was shivering delightfully when her eyes fluttered open. The first thing she was aware of was _heat_. Her flesh was fevered from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes; the spot between her legs was _really_ hot. Unnaturally hot. She put her hand down the front of her shorts and touched it: She shuddered as tongues of fire streaked out into her body. She was damp, and her thing pulsed hotly against her hand like a beating heart. She slowly drew her middle finger up the center, between her satin mounds, and moaned lightly. Her spine tingled and her toes started to curl. She threw her head back and ran her finger slowly up and down. When it sank into her opening, she jerked. God _damn._

Images of Lincoln flashed through her mind. His smile, his warm, caring eyes, his arms holding her to his chest. She rubbed her legs and slowly dipped her finger in, her breath hitching. She thought back to yesterday, him on top of her, his hand on her breast. Her fingertip touched a bundle of nerves that she didn't even know she had, and her mind scrambled with hot sensation. She rubbed it in quick, tight circles, and something began to gather in her stomach, a pressure much like the one she had felt yesterday, only this time it was sharper. She rubbed faster, faster, her chest heaving, her feet crossing, her back arching. The pressure was rising, rising, oh god, rising...then it burst wide open, enveloping her entire body in white hot passion, and she bit her bottom lip against the cry filling her mouth. She shook with the power of her orgasm; her body turned to jelly, and her slitted eyes crossed.

When it was over, she took a shivery breath and pulled her hand out of her shorts. Her fingers were wet and sticky, and she wiped them on the cover. Wow, she thought breathlessly, that was _awesome_.

God, how much better it would have been if Lincoln was the one doing that to her.

She wished his stupid sister didn't walk in on them.

Sighing, she got out of bed and went into the bathroom, where she stripped naked and let down her hair, which spilled over her shoulders. She studied her budding breasts in the mirror over the sink. She cupped one in her hand and tried to imagine Lincoln was holding it, but it wasn't the same. In the shower, she turned the water as hot as she could stand and let it pound against her. She couldn't wait to see Lincoln. If they could find some privacy...

She giggled at the thought. She thought of his penis. What did it look like? Was it big? Small? Thick? Thin? Not that she really cared. It was his and that's all that mattered. She wanted to run her fingers along it, and stroke it, and put it in her mouth...

 _Jesus, you're turning into a mushy-gushy pervert!_

Oh well. She didn't mind. Lincoln was all that mattered to her. He was everything she needed and wanted. Suddenly...other people's opinion of her didn't matter one damn bit. Let them think what they wanted to about her; as long as Lincoln loved her, she was content.

When she was done, she cut the water, dried off, then wrapped the towel around her body. In her room, she pulled on a pair of purple underwear and a black T-shirt with a glittery skull and crossbones. She intentionally did not put on a bra. Next, she selected a pair of jeans and then sat to put on her socks and shoes. Her purple hoodie came last. Back in the bathroom, she took a scrunchie from her wrist and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

She was ready for Lincoln.

* * *

Lynn Loud passed a sleepless night playing the toss-and-turn game. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lincoln and Ronnie Anne kissing.

Earlier, after dinner, she tracked down Luna and asked about what she saw them doing.

" _I saw them getting pretty close on the couch, then they went upstairs,"_ Lynn lied. _"I figured something was going on..."_

" _They were practically doing it,"_ Luna said with a little smile.

Lynn's heart sank. _"Oh...yeah?"_

Luna nodded. _"He was on top of her and she had her legs open and they were kissing and if I hadn't walked in..."_ she shrugged.

Nodding and muttering something that even she didn't understand, Lynn went back to her room and sat down on her bed, her chest flooding with pain. That was the only way to describe it: Pain. She tried to visualize what Luna must have saw, but it made her stomach knot and her chest tight. Why did the thought of him kissing Ronnie Anne disturb her so much? Why did it make her want to curl up on her bed and cry? Because she was a little bitch who would treat him like a dog?

She didn't think so. That was certainly a part of it, but not all of it. Who and what Ronnie was aside, the idea of him doing...that...shook her. She drew a deep sigh and crawled under the covers, thoroughly depressed. She should really talk to him, but what would she say? _I don't like that bitch, she's bad for you?_ Where would _that_ get her? Into a shouting match probably, and she didn't want to yell at Lincoln and she sure as shit didn't want him to yell at her.

Presently, she thought of getting up and going to him; she could slip beneath the covers, put her arm across his chest, and simply lay there, content in the knowledge that, for the time being at least, he was safe in her protective embrace. The thought was tempting, but she made no move to get up.

She finally drifted off shortly before dawn, and woke two and a half hours later to the alarm; her eyes were grainy and her head ached, but she would manage. It was the pain in her chest that bothered her.

In the hall, she got in line behind Leni for the bathroom. When she heard the telltale creak of Lincoln's bedroom door opening, she turned. He was in his underwear; his eyes were barely open and he fell against the wall. She smiled to herself. "It's awake, guys!"

"Shut up!" he said, bouncing off the other wall and putting his hands out to steady himself. He was so bumbling in the morning. It was cute.

"Hey, Linc," Lynn said when he walked up.

He grunted.

"Glad to see you made it in one piece."

"Yeah," he said dully.

She reached out to push him back (just to see if he would tip over), but she froze when her palm touched his chest: His skin was warm and soft, and she felt a blush touch her cheeks.

"What are you doing?" he asked, blinking rapidly and trying to focus his eyes.

"I was going to push you over but I had a change of heart," she said and snatched her hand away.

"Thanks," he muttered.

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Don't mention it," she croaked.

When her turn in the bathroom came, she studied her reflection in the mirror. What was _that_ about, Loud?

She didn't know.

An hour later, when she left the house, Ronnie Anne Santiago was waiting on the sidewalk for Lincoln. Hot anger rose in her, and she took a deep breath. As she passed, she shot her a dirty look, and she shot one right back. Fucking bitch.

The day was chilly and overcast with a light wind. Leaves fell from treetops and sailed through the air, but Lynn took no notice, she was lost in thought.

What was wrong with Ronnie Anne?

And what was wrong with _her?_

* * *

Ronnie Anne Santiago watched Lynn Loud hurry down the sidewalk, her shoulders hunched and her head bowed. If she were literally _anyone_ else, Ronnie would have said something to her, but she had to remind herself that she _wasn't_ just anyone, she was Lincoln's sister. That meant Ronnie's hands were basically tied.

And she didn't like that.

She drew a deep breath and shook her head, her hands balling inside the oversized pockets of her hoodie. Everyone has their breaking point, she thought, so you better leave me alone.

Those dark thoughts vanished when Lincoln came out the door. Ronnie's heart soared and she felt herself smiling like a goofball. _There's my Lincy-boo-boo-bear_ she thought ironically, and laughed out loud.

"What's funny?" he asked as he walked up.

"Nothing," she said and grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his. They began to walk.

"Come on," he pled, "I wanna hear."

"Not on your life, lame-o," she said, "I will _never_ say what I just thought."

He lifted a brow. "That bad, huh?"

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah, pretty bad."

"Hm. You know it's bad when you won't say it. I've heard you say some really messed up things."

She shrugged. "This is different."

"How so?"

She thought for a minute. Should she tell him? Or give him a hint? They talked about how sickeningly cute Bobby and Lori were with each other, and both decided that it was mock-worthy. What would he think of her if she busted out Lincy-boo-boo-bear, even in jest?

He'd probably think she was going soft. God, he might even _like_ it.

"I made up a cute pet-name for you," she finally admitted, and blushed. "I don't want to say it, though. I was just messing around."

He favored her with a sidelong glance. "Cute pet-name? Wow." He laughed.

"Shut up," she said, and squeezed his hand as hard as she could. He squeezed right back, and she yelped. "Jerk!" she cried, and slammed his arm. He recoiled with a laugh.

"That means I have to come up with a cute pet-name for you," he said as they crossed Schoolhouse Road. Yellow and brown leaves were heaped in the gutters and more fell from the trees along the sidewalk, the wind catching them and pushing them away like embers from a fire.

"Oh, God," Ronnie groaned.

"Call you it in front of everyone..."

"You _better_ not."

"Over the intercom."

She slapped his arm again and jabbed his cheek with her finger. "No."

He stopped and turned. "Are you sure?"

She gazed up into his soulful eyes, her heart bouncing. She nodded. "Yes."

"Okay," he smiled, and leaned in. His lips brushed hers, and she drew a sharp intake of his warm breath. Their tongues touched and danced around one another. She threw her arms around him and drew him close, nearly knocking him off balance. He giggled against her mouth. "Easy there," he said.

"Sorry," she panted, and kissed him again.

When the kiss finally broke, she rested her head against his chest and hugged him tight, the rhythmic pounding of his heart lulling her. She felt so...she couldn't believe she was about to think this...so _safe_ in his arms, so protected. She looked up at him and smiled. "I meant what I said yesterday," she said.

"You said a lot of stuff yesterday."

"That I love you."

Lincoln grinned. "I love you too." He pecked her on the forehead. "Let's go, you're going to make us late."

For Ronnie Anne, the morning passed in a daze. She couldn't focus, and when she tried to think, all she could come up with was Lincoln and the way she felt in his arms. During science class, she thought back to what she did that morning in bed, and crossed her legs when she imagined Lincoln doing the same thing. She wanted that _very_ badly.

When lunch rolled around, she got in line, got her tray, and went over to hers and Lincoln's table. Hopefully McBride would leave them alone.

As she waited for Lincoln, she caught sight of Lynn Loud at a table near the wall.

She was staring at her.

Hot anger flashed in Ronnie's chest, and she fought to push it down. _You're really starting to piss me off, Loud_ , she thought. She turned away and looked at the wall. When she turned back, Lynn was still staring at her with knitted brows.

Alright, screw this.

Leaving her tray, Ronnie got up and crossed the cafeteria, shoving her hands into her pockets and balling them. Lynn finally looked down at her tray just as Ronnie came up and dropped into the seat across from her.

"What's your problem with me?" she asked.

Lynn didn't reply, didn't look up, but Ronnie could _feel_ the hatred wafting off of her.

"I know you have one, so how about you spit it out?"

Lynn's hands were on the table. Her fingers flexed like she was limbering them up for a punch. Ronnie wished she would.

Instead, the Loud girl got up, grabbed her tray, and turned.

"Really?" Ronnie asked. "You're gonna walk away...like a little bitch?"

Lynn spun and slammed the tray down on the table; bits of food flew out of the compartments. Ronnie didn't flinch.

Lynn leaned across the table, her eyes flashing and her teeth bared. "Stay away from my brother," she growled.

"How about you make me?" Ronnie asked, leaning forward. Their noses were scant inches apart.

Before either of them could act, Mrs. Dempsey, the fourth grade teacher and that day's lunch monitor, came over. They both looked up at her. She was a big fat woman with glasses and curly gray hair. Her arms were crossed over her matronly bosom. "Is there a problem, girls?"

"No," Lynn said tightly, her eyes still locked on Ronnie Anne's. "I was just leaving."

"Yes she was," Ronnie said.

Lynn turned and stormed away. Ronnie got up and went back to her lunch just as Lincoln walked in. She saw him, and the dark anger in chest melting like ice against the rays of the summer sun. She grinned and waved. He grinned and waved back. She caught Lynn staring at her from a different table, and when Lincoln wasn't looking, Ronnie flipped her off.

Tray in hand, Lincoln came over and sat across from her. "Hey, baby-boo-boo-cakes," he said.

Ronnie's lips puckered as though she'd just sucked a lemon. "I will hit you," she said.

"Come on," he said, "it took me all morning to come up with that."

"I think you need to put a little thought into it. Even mine wasn't _that_ bad."

"What was it?"

Ronnie's throat constricted. "I forget," she lied.

Lincoln laughed. "No you didn't. What was it?"

Ronnie sighed. He _did_ tell her his. She sighed and, looking down at her tray, said, "Lincy-boo-boo-bear."

Lincoln laughed long and hard. Ronnie's cheeks blushed furiously, and she looked away. "Shut up."

"That's funny," he said, brushing a tear from his eye.

"Shut up," she said again, but she was smiling.

"It's cute."

"Yeah? I don't do cute."

He batted his eyelashes. "Not even for me?"

She opened her mouth but closed it again. "You're pushing it"

He poked his cheek with his index finger and turned it back and forth.

"You're a dork," she laughed.

All this time, she was aware of Lynn Loud watching her.


	5. Caught in the Middle

Lynn Loud was seething by the time school ended. At football practice, she couldn't focus; she kept thinking of Ronnie Anne Santiago's dark, defiant eyes, her set lips. _Leave my brother alone,_ Lynn said, and the little bitch's eyes danced with malicious glee. _How about you make me?_ Lynn was going to: She was going to smash her right in her face, but Mrs. Dempsey came over and that was all she wrote. Lynn was going to leave the cafeteria after, but she found herself grabbing another seat and watching her brother and his a-hole girlfriend. They were all bright eyes and big smiles, and it pissed her off. It pissed her off even more when, deep down, she wondered if maybe _she_ was the asshole, and not Ronnie Anne. Maybe she had their relationship all wrong and was...well...jealous.

Oh, that _really_ made her mad. Instead of massacring everyone as she had the day before, _she_ got massacred because she just couldn't get her head in the game. After the third time another girl tackled her to the ground (and knocked the breath out of her), Coach Peters came over, her hands on her hips. "Yesterday you were killing everybody, now everybody's killing you. You obviously got something on your mind."

"It's nothing," Lynn said, sitting up and taking her helmet off, her sweaty brown hair falling over her shoulders.

In a surprising display of tenderness, Coach knelt down and patted her back. "Problems at home?"

"No," Lynn said quickly. "Really, I'm fine."

"Alright," Coach sighed and stood. "If you need to talk, my door's always open. Now hit the showers."

Lynn took her shower, got dressed, and walked home through the gathering gloom. When she got home, she let herself in the front door and took her gym back off. Lincoln was sitting on the couch, a book open on his lap. She grinned. "Hey, Linc."

He glanced over. "Hey."

When he moved, Lynn saw something she didn't like.

Ronnie Anne Santiago was sitting next to him.

Lynn's body tensed. "Oh, _she's_ here?"

Ronnie Anne leaned forward and looked past Lincoln, her brows knitted. "Yeah, I'm right here."

Lynn's fingernails dug into her palms.

Lincoln looked from his sister to his girlfriend, confusion in his eyes. "What...?"

"You and your little girlfriend wanna play some football?" Lynn asked before she knew she was even going to speak. "Or is she afraid she's gonna break a nail?"

" _Something_ might get broken," Ronnie said, jumping up.

Lynn nodded. "Come on, then."

"Uh, guys?"

"Shut up, Lincoln," they both said in unison.

"Let's go," Lynn said, then went around the couch toward the back door. Ronnie followed, and Lincoln brought up the rear, thoroughly confused but knowing something was inexplicably not right.

Dusk pooled in the backyard. A chilly wind sprang up, and Lincoln shivered. He thought briefly of running back inside and grabbing his jacket, but he didn't like this one bit and he wasn't going to take his eyes off it for a second.

Lynn bent down and snatched a football from the grass. Lincoln came down the porch stairs, but she held up a hand without looking at him. "Sit this one out. Let me see what little girl here is made of."

Ronnie gritted her teeth.

"Alright, _kid,"_ Lynn said, backing up. "I'll throw you the ball and you try to make it past me. Think you can handle that?"

"Lynn..." Lincoln started, but Ronnie cut him off with a snort.

"And here I thought it was going to be a _challenge_."

Lincoln looked strickenly from one girl to the other. Both looked angry. Both looked frightening. Lincoln dropped to the step and watched as Lynn backed up, never taking her eyes off Ronnie. When she was a good seventy-five feet away, Lynn stopped and snapped the ball. It cut through the chilly air like a bullet. Ronnie jumped at the last second and grabbed it in both her hands. Lynn was running toward her like a freight train, and Lincoln's heart leapt into his throat. Ronnie ducked to the right and started running. Lynn gave chase, pounding after her, her arms pumping furiously. When Ronnie reached the fence separating their yard from Mr. Grouse's, she turned, but Lynn kept coming.

"Lynn!" Lincoln yelled, getting to his feet.

When Lynn was almost on top of her, Ronnie cocked her fist and threw it, hitting Lynn in the side of the face. This didn't seem to faze the athlete, as she slammed into Ronnie and knocked her against the fence.

"Hey!"

Lincoln started running toward them as they rolled back and forth in the grass, Lynn on top and punching, then Ronnie. Someone cried out, and another growled, "Fucking bitch!" When Lincoln reached them, they were both lying on their sides, their hands full of each other's hair. Ronnie kicked her legs up and pushed her feet into Lynn's stomach. Lynn responded by rolling onto her back and wrenching Ronnie with her. Ronnie's knee landed in Lynn's stomach, and she threw a punch, hitting Lynn in the chin. Lincoln caught her under her arms and dragged her back. "Stop!" he yelled.

Ronnie thrashed against him like a wild animal, her legs kicking and her arms flailing. "Fuck you, bitch!" she screamed at Lynn.

Lynn sat up, a trickle of blood leaking from her nose. Her eyes blazed with hatred. "I'm gonna rip your eyes out, you little slut!"

"STOP!" Lincoln yelled.

Ronnie ceased fighting in his arms, and Lynn looked at him. "What's your fucking problem?" he screamed at his sister, and she winced.

"She..."

"She didn't do shit! You're the one who came through the door with a chip on your shoulder!"

"She wants me to stay away from you," Ronnie said, pulling away from him and pointing at Lynn. "Which isn't going to fucking happen. I _love_ him."

"You don't love him, bitch," Lynn growled.

"Lynn, shut the hell up _right now!"_ Lincoln screamed. "I don't know who the hell you think you are meddling in my life, but this stops _now_."

Lynn blinked. "But, Linc..."

"No but Linc. If you have a problem with the girl I love, go stick your thumb up your ass and deal with it."

 _The girl I love?_

Those four words hit Lynn's heart like a bullet. She recoiled, and hot tears flooded her eyes.

Lincoln's face was twisted in ugly rage, his lips a bloodless slash and his eyes heavily lidded. Ronnie sank back against him and he put his arm around her neck. She had the exact same expression on her face.

Lynn blinked away her tears and got to her feet. "Fine," she spat, "have your girlfriend, you little faggot."

Ronnie started forward, but Lincoln held her back. "Go to hell, Lynn," he said, and the venom he injected into those words wounded her so deeply that she nearly doubled over. Instead, she stormed inside. In her room, she flopped down on her bed, buried her face in her pillow, and wept.

Lucy, hitherto reading a book, glanced over. Of all their sisters, she was the one who knew Lynn the best, as they had shared a room for practically their entire lives. Lynn was not the unfeeling statue she came across as...she cried sometimes...but it was _rare_. Lucy glanced at her book then back to her sister, her lips pressing together. When Lynn cried, she needed space. When she was calm, she would open up about what did it...if she wanted to. Even so, every time Lucy saw her sister's back hitching, she had to fight back the urge to go over, sit on the edge of her bed, and comfort her. She _hated_ when Lynn cried; it made _her_ feel like crying.

Sighing, she went back to her book, but could not focus.

In the backyard, Lincoln tightened his grip against Ronnie's shoulder and kissed the top of her head. Her hair was warm and sweet-smelling, even if it was matted with leaves and twigs.

"I'm sorry about Lynn," he said.

"It's not your fault," she said, melting back into him and craning her neck to look up at him. He leaned his forehead against her and held her close. She thought back to the dream she had the night before and to what she did to herself that morning, and suddenly she was warm all over. It was getting late and she had to go, but she didn't want to. She wanted to stay with Lincoln.

She looked at him. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," he replied, and kissed the tip of her nose; a shiver went down her spine and she giggled.

"You're turning me into a mushy-gushy girl."

"You didn't look like a mushy-gushy girl five minutes ago," Lincoln said.

She shrugged. "I was fighting so I could continue being mushy to you."

Lincoln sighed. "I don't know what her deal is."

"She's being really overprotective," Ronnie said. "I can kind of get it, but she needs to cool her tits."

"Yeah," Lincoln said. "I'll talk to her."

Ronnie slipped her phone out of her pocket and checked the time. It was 5:08. Shit. "I have to go," she sighed.

"But I don't want you to," Lincoln said, and buried his face in her hair.

"Neither do I," she said, reaching back and grazing her fingers along his scalp. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll see you tonight in my dreams."

She giggled. "Are they anything like mine?" she blurted, and then blushed.

"Hmmm. What are yours like?"

She started to say _dirty_ , but froze up. Maybe that would be going a little too far. "Nice."

"So are mine."

He hugged her tighter as night fell around them.

* * *

Lynn was curled up on her bed, her knees drawn to her chest, when a knock came at the door. Something told her before it even opened that it was Lincoln.

Sure enough, when Lucy called out, he came in, and Lynn covered her face with her pillow. She didn't want him to see her red, puffy lids, and she didn't want to see the anger in his eyes. She'd seen him mad before, but never like that, and it hurt her heart.

"Hey, Luce," Lincoln said nervously, "can you, uh, give me and Lynn a minute alone please?"

"Sure," she replied. When Lynn heard the door shut, she tensed, expecting Lincoln to call her names. Instead, he came over, and she felt the bed dip as she sat. "I'm sorry I yelled at you like that," he said. "But what's going on with you and Ronnie Anne?"

Lynn turned away from him and hugged the pillow tight to her chest. A thousand thoughts flooded her mind, but she kept her mouth firmly shut.

He touched her shoulder, and she stiffened. "Please," he said, "tell me what this is all about. I...I really like Ronnie, and you...you're one of the most important things in my life. I don't want to see you guys fight like that. It _really_ bothers me."

Lynn drew a wet sigh and blinked back tears. "Do you really love her?" Lynn asked.

"Yeah," Lincoln said. "I do. Why?"

 _Because I want you to love me_. Instead, she said, "Do you really think she's good for you?"

Lincoln's brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't I? I l...we feel very strongly about one another. I'm happy and she's happy. What's not good about that?"

Lynn turned, "Because she punched you in the face, Lincoln! She's aggressive and she's domineering and she's going to treat you like a dog and throw her weight around."

Lincoln cocked his head. "What?"

"In every relationship there's a strong person and a weak person and the strong person bosses the weak person around. I don't want her to boss you around. You can do better than her. You _have_ to do better than her." She sat up and took his hand. Her heart was crashing and her stomach was in knots. "You need someone who'll treat you right and protect you."

Lincoln stared blankly at her for a moment, then pulled his hand away. "Alright," he said, "first of all, I'm not weak. I might not be as aggressive as you or Lori or Lola, but that doesn't mean I'm a sniveling little wimp. Everyone's always acting like I'm some kind of wussy and it's really getting on my nerves. If I was, you and Ronnie would still be in the backyard ripping each other's hair our and I'd be curled up under the porch crying. Second, I don't need anyone to protect me. I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself. If I feel like Ronnie is doing something wrong or not treating me "right," I have no problem saying something..."

"But..."

"I don't need you fighting my battles for me. And, you know what, there's no battle here but the one _you're_ creating."

Lynn inwardly flinched.

"I don't know _where_ you came up with this stuff about Ronnie being a controlling bitch, but you're wrong."

"Lincoln, she..."

"You don't _know_ what she is and what she isn't," Lincoln said firmly. "You don't _know_ her. In fact, how many times have you guys even _talked?_ You'd probably get along since you're so much alike."

"I am _not_ like her."

Lincoln nodded. "Yes you are. You're both aggressive and take-charge kind of people."

Lynn started to protest, but stopped. Was...was he right? Was she just like Ronnie Anne Santiago? And was _she_ really the asshole? She thought back to that afternoon when she watched Lincoln and Ronnie from across the cafeteria, hating how happy they looked. And they _did_ look happy.

She sighed and bowed her head; she was on the verge of tears and she didn't want Lincoln to see. _I really_ am _the asshole. And I'm selfish._ She hated seeing them so happy because it should have been her and not Ronnie. She was so caught up in wanting her brother that she completely lost sight of what he wanted and what made _him_ happy.

And what made him happy was Ronnie Anne Santiago.

Not Lynn Loud.

"I'm sorry," Lynn said, "I just...I care about you."

Lincoln sighed. "I appreciate that. It's nice to know my big sis is looking out for me."

"I'll back off."

He squeezed her shoulder. "Thank you."

When he was gone, she buried her face in her pillow and cried again. Even though it would only make things harder on him, she should have said something...she should have told him she was in love with him.


	6. Hanging Out

Saturday morning dawned bright and warm; by the time the Loud family was done with breakfast, temperatures hovered in the low sixties, and the weatherman on the radio was talking about "Indian summer," whatever _that_ was.

At 1216 Franklin Avenue, Saturday mornings were devoted to chores. Normally, Lincoln was on trash duty, but this week Leni asked him to help her dust the living room and Lana offered to take over for him. "I _love_ trash!"

"That's not what you said during the strike," Lincoln grumbled.

He met Leni in the living room. "Thanks for helping me, Lincy!" she said, handing him a feather duster. "I _totes_ appreciate it."

"What are brothers for?" he asked.

She started on one side of the living room and he started on the other. The idea was for Leni to dust high and for Lincoln to dust low: Along the baseboards, the bottoms of the end tables, and along the shelfs of the entertainment system. It would take one person working alone a good hour to do it all, and no one wanted to devote a full hour to dusting on a beautiful Saturday morning.

Lincoln knelt and remained on his knees the entire time, crawling around like a big, white-haired baby. By the time he was done, his knees were sore and his back kind of hurt. "Thanks, Lincy!" Leni said and took the feather duster back. "You're the best!"

Upstairs, he dropped onto his bed and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. He had a text from Ronnie. She sent it a half hour ago. "Do you want to hang out today?"

Smiling, he fired off a response. "No, hanging out with my beautiful girlfriend sounds awful."

She replied a minute later, and when he saw what she sent, he uttered shocked laughter. "Where did you get a middle finger emoji?" he texted.

"Internet."

"Interesting. Of course I want to hang out."

She sent a smiley face, then, "Meet me at the park in half an hour."

"Okay."

He shoved his phone into his pocket and laced his fingers behind his head. Would it be awkward seeing Ronnie after the dream he had about her last night? He imagined it probably would be. He'd dreamed of her before, sure, but never like _that_. Just thinking about it was making his pants tight. He tried to close the memory out, but it came through anyway: They were in his bed, him on top of her the way he had been the other day, only this time neither of them were wearing any clothes. He saw _everything_ , but before he could do anything, he woke up hard and frustrated. He felt kind of guilty about it. Pretty pervert dream to have. Though he was sure it didn't work that way, he was sort of afraid she'd look into his eyes and see it, and think he was gross.

Sighing, he sat up and pulled his shoes on. Outside, a light, warmish breeze swept across the yard, and a dry, brow leaf slapped him in the face. Happy Saturday to you too, he thought as he peeled it off. He grabbed his bike from the garage, mounted it, and started pedaling. It was a hand-me-down that was already a size too small. When he first got it, it was pink with a white flower design and a wicker basket on the front. He spray painted it a flat black color and then added a flame scheme that he was immensely proud of: If you didn't get too close, it looked professional.

Robert E. Lee Park was two and a half miles from his house. As he biked through the streets of Royal Woods, passing kids playing in front lawns, men washing their cars, and women pushing baby strollers, he tried to figure out why it was called Robert E. Lee Park. What did General Lee have to do with Michigan? Had he ever _been_ to Michigan? Was Michigan even a _state_ when he was around?

One of life's great mysteries.

He reached the park twenty minutes after leaving and parked near an oak tree overlooking the playground. It was early enough that no kids were using it. He pulled out his phone to text Ronnie, but caught sight of her coming up the sidewalk on her own bike. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and waited for her. When she saw him, she lifted a hand, and the front of her bike wobbled: Her eyes went wide and grabbed the handlebar before she could fall. Lincoln laughed.

"Shut up, lame-o," she said as she pulled up. "I almost died."

"Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades," he said.

She jumped off and set the kickstand with her foot. She was wearing shorts and purple socks pulled halfway up to her knees.

"Isn't it a little warm for a hoodie?" he asked.

"I don't question _your_ clothes," she said. They kissed. "So don't question mine."

Lincoln lifted his hands in a supplicating gesture. "Alright, sheesh."

They started walking toward the playground. "You have anything in mind?" he asked, and his mind flashed back to the dream of the night before. A blush touched his cheeks.

Ronnie lifted her shoulders. "Not really. I just want to spend time with you."

He was caught off guard by how blunt and nonchalant her response was. He was still used to her beating around the bush even _after_ the last few days when she did anything but. He smiled and took her hand in his. She looked at him and cocked an eyebrow. "What are you grinning at, dork?"

"You," Lincoln said.

She squinted at him, a ray of sunlight catching her face. "Am I funny?"

"No," he said. "You're cute."

"Watch it, Loud," she laughed.

"You're like a little cuddly bear."

Pursing her lips, she punched him in the arm. Hard. "Ow! Just take the compliment!"

They reached the playground, and Ronnie skipped over to the monkey bars. "Thank you," she said over her shoulders. Lincoln lifted his arm and winced. Ronnie Anne Santiago might be cute, but she hit like a biker.

She grabbed the bars, lifted herself up, then threw herself back, hooking her legs around so that she hung upside down, her ponytail swishing back and forth like a pendulum. She crossed her arms and looked at him. "Alright, let's hang out."

Lincoln chuckled. "You sound like Luan."

She shrugged. "Maybe she's on to something."

"And maybe your blood's rushing to your head." He put his hand on her leg and pushed.

"Whoa! Watch it, asshole!"

"Sorry," he said innocently.

"You gonna hang with me or what?"

Lincoln sighed and looked at the monkey bars. He was a lot of things, and a gymnast was not one of them. "I don't know," he said, "I'll probably wind up breaking my neck."

"You never know until you try."

He gripped two of the bars and kicked his feet out from under him. His muscles strained as he dangled. He tried to swing himself forward, but his elbows popped and his hands released. With a cry, he fell butt-first into the mulch. Ronnie laughed so hard she shook...then she fell, tucking her head in at the last second and landing in a heap. She let out a moan.

"Are you alright?" Lincoln asked worriedly as he crawled over.

"I'm fine, jerk," she said, but made no move to get up.

Lincoln knelt over her. "Jerk, huh?"

"You made me fall."

"Let that be a lesson to you: Don't laugh at other people's misfortune."

"Shut up."

"Karma's a bitch."

She grinned. "Shut up."

"I..."

With a speed Lincoln had never seen from her, she sat up, grabbed his face in her hands, and kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth and dragging him to the ground, where he landed on top of her. After the initial shock, he kissed her back, planting one arm in the dirt and stroking her cheek with the other. He felt himself beginning to stir and panicked. He tried to pull away, but Ronnie held him...and was it his imagination, or was she intentionally rubbing herself against him?

When the kiss broke, she smiled up at him with half-lidded eyes. "I had to shut you up _some_ how."

"That's a pretty good way to do it."

"I know. Now come on. I have an idea."

* * *

After breakfast Lynn Loud did the dishes, wiped down the kitchen counters and the dining room table, and watched her brother crawl around the living room. A little smile was plastered to his lips, and his eyes shone with happiness. Lynn's heart ached, and she turned away, wiping down a counter she'd already wiped twice. Later, as she sat on the couch and tried to lose herself in a movie, he tumbled down the stairs and went out the front door. Lynn knew where he was going.

To be with _her_.

The girl he loved.

The girl who made him totally, absolutely, and completely happy.

Lynn sighed. A part of her regretted not telling him how she felt last night, not grabbing him by the front of his shirt and kissing him deeply. The only thing that stopped her was the knowledge of how hard that would be on him. She was one of the most important people in the world to him, he said so himself. He was so kind and sensitive and caring that knowing she pined for him while he loved another would probably kill him. It wouldn't be fair to do that to him.

So she would pine and support him and pretend that seeing him with Ronnie Anne Santiago didn't tear her up inside. He needed her, he needed his sister...he didn't need the kind of shit she pulled last night.

Her mind spun with a million and one thoughts, and after a while she could take it no longer, so she got up and went into the backyard. She didn't have an activity in mind when she stepped off of the patio and into the grass; maybe she'd kick her soccer ball around...maybe she'd do sprints...anything to get herself out of her current funk.

"Hey, Lynn," a voice said from behind her, and she jumped with a tiny cry. When she spun around, Lucy was there, her hands behind her back and her black bangs covering her eyes.

Lynn's hand fluttered to her chest. "Geez, Luce, don't you ever get tired of scaring people?"

"Sorry," Lucy said, "I didn't mean to."

There was a tiny inflection in her tone that indicated hurt. Of all her siblings, she knew Lucy the best; anyone else may have missed it, but Lynn did not, and she felt bad. "It's okay," she said.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I was hoping to play football, but I don't have anyone to play with."

"I'll play," Lucy said quickly, and Lynn gaped. None of her siblings shared her proclivity for sports, and none of them ever played with her...except for Lincoln. Out of all of them, however, Lucy was the _last_ one she'd ever expect to offer. For Lucy, simply coming outside was rare.

"You?" Lynn asked.

Lucy nodded. "Me."

"You think you're up to it?"

"Yes."

Lynn shrugged. "Alright." She went over to the patio and grabbed a football. "Go over there," she said, gesturing toward the fence. Lucy walked impassively over and stood with her hands up. Lynn threw the ball as gently as she could, and it started to arch down before it reached her sister. Lucy ran forward and reached out; it hit her hands but bounced off. Wow.

"Impressive," Lynn said, crossing her arms. She expected it to miss Lucy by a mile.

"There's more to me than just darkness," Lucy said. She picked the ball up and tossed it; it was a sloppy pass, but still far better than what Lynn expected. She caught it. "Where'd you learn to play?"

"I read a book about a vampire who became a football player," Lucy said. "He didn't know anything about football and this famous coach taught him."

"Hmm. Interesting. You could use some work."

"Yeah, I'm not very good."

"You're not bad either." Lynn walked over and handed the ball to Lucy. "First thing's first, let's work on your throw."

"Okay."

Lynn stood behind her sister as she cocked the ball. Her fingers were bunched together. "Spread your fingers."

Lucy did.

"Now when you throw, turn."

Lucy twisted her torso and threw; she started to fall, but Lynn grabbed her arm.

"Thanks," Lucy said.

"Here, watch how I do it."

Lynn grabbed the ball and wound up for a forward pass. Lucy stood close by, bent at the waist, her hands clasped behind her back. "Like this, got it?"

Lucy nodded.

Lynn threw the ball and Lucy sighed. "You make it look so easy."

"It really is. You just need some practice is all."

For the next hour and a half, Lynn demonstrated how to throw, how to catch, how to evade. Lucy was an apt pupil, picking up the basics very quickly. Lynn was extremely impressed with her little sister.

By the time they were done, Lucy was red-faced and out of breath. Lynn could never remember seeing her sister with rosy cheeks; it was kind of cute. "So," Lynn said, sitting next to Lucy on the back step, "how do you like it?"

"I had fun," Lucy said. "What other sports can you teach me?"

Lynn blinked. "You wanna learn more?"

"Yes," Lucy said.

Lynn thought for a minute. "Well, I guess we could try basketball next."

"Okay."

"When do you want to?"

"Right now."

"Boy, you're full of surprises today," Lynn said with a grin. She didn't mind. She was having fun.

Lucy shrugged. "I figured it was time to expand my horizons."

"What's next? Blonde hair and cute shoes?"

"Uh, no."

"Alright," Lynn said, getting up, "let's go."

In the driveway, Lynn dribbled the ball while Lucy stood stoically before the hoop, her arms at her sides. "You know, Luce," Lynn said, ducking left and right, bouncing the ball between her legs and catching it, "sports is like dancing. You have to get into a rhythm, not just stand there like a dead body."

"Dead bodies don't stand," Lucy said.

"Well...in those books you read they do."

"Good point." Lucy wigged her hips stiffly from side to side and failed her arms, and for some reason, that was the funniest thing Lynn had ever seen: She missed the ball and bent over laughing. When she looked up, Lucy was grinning widely like a satisfied cat. Like she was _trying_ to make Lynn laugh.

"That's _not_ what I meant," Lynn said.

The ball had rolled into the street and sat against the front tire of a car parked at the curb. Lynn went over, grabbed it, and tried to make a jumpshot, but the ball came down short and bounced. Lucy snatched it up and tried to emulate: She jumped straight up and threw the ball. It hit the rim, bounced off, and then smacked Lucy in the head. She fell, and Lynn's heart leapt into her throat.

"You okay?" she asked, rushing over. Lucy sat on her butt, her arms propped on either side of her.

"Yeah," she said, shaking her head, "that's nothing compared to the gnawing pain within."

Lynn rolled her eyes and helped her sister up. "Thanks." Lynn ran after the ball, grabbed it, and came over. "Here," she said, handing the ball to Lucy and slipping behind her. "Now hold it up."

Lucy did, and Lynn pressed herself against her sister, assuming the proper stance. For some reason, her heart began to beat quickly. "Okay, now jump and throw."

They jumped together, but the ball went wide and came down in a bush. "Okay," Lynn said, "maybe that wasn't the best way. I'm not really used to teaching people."

"You're doing a good job," Lucy said.

A smile touched Lynn's lips. She mussed her sister's hair; Lucy surprised her by throwing her arms around her waist and hugging her tight. Lynn's cheeks turned red. "I love you, sis," Lucy said.

"I, uh, love you too," Lynn replied, and hugged Lucy back.

She felt strange.


	7. Young Love

There was a red plastic tube running between a platform with a metal steering wheel and a set of steps leading to the swings. Holding Lincoln's hand, Ronnie dragged him in, ducking her head. Inside, they sat across from each other, their heads slightly stooped and their knees bent. Names, dates, and obscene words had been carved into the plastic by teenagers past. A giant middle finger poked out from behind Ronnie's head. It was either that or a penis. Lincoln blushed.

"What's this idea you had?" he asked.

"This," she said, and leaned in between his knees. Planting her hands on either side of him, she brushed her lips against his, and they kissed, slowly at first, the tips of their tongues tentatively grazing, then deeper, more urgently. Her arms gave out and she collapsed against his chest. She giggled into his mouth and then pulled back, sucking his lower lip. His heart was crashing and he was getting hard. Her face was blazing with color and her eyes smoldered. She grinned mischievously , and in that moment she was so beautiful it hurt.

"I had a dirty dream about you," she said, her gaze never wavering from his eyes.

Lincoln blinked.

"R-Really?" he asked.

She nodded coyly.

"I had one about you too," he admitted around a lump in his throat.

Her eyes narrowed seductively. "You did?"

He swallowed and nodded.

"What was it about?"

He opened his mouth but words wouldn't form. She giggled and leaned in. "Come on, Loud. I wanna hear."

"We were in my bed," he confessed.

"Yeah? What were we _doing_ in your bed?"

"H-Having sex."

A big grin spread across her face. "Sounds like we had the same dream."

Lincoln gaped. She had a dream like that too? "I thought you'd think I was gross," he blurted.

"I don't think that at all," she said. "I think you're perfect and I love you."

She unzipped her hoodie and shrugged out of it. Underneath, she was wearing a black t-shirt. Lincoln's heart bounced and the lump in his throat ached. "What are you doing?"

Without speaking, she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her chest. Her heart knocked under his palm. She was breathing heavily now. "My heart belongs to you, Lincoln. Please don't break it."

"I would never do that," he said, and meant it.

She smiled. Holding his hand, she slipped it under her shirt; his eyes widened as she guided him up her stomach and to her bare breast, his touch making her warm skin tighten. She let go, and he cupped it, his heat radiating through her. She looked at his lap; his jeans were bulging.

For a moment he was frozen, then he came alive, pressing his palm against her sensitive nipple and rubbing slowly. She felt herself dampen as pangs of sensation rippled through her body.

"Can I see it?" she asked huskily.

Lincoln cocked his head, his brows furrowing.

"Your...your dick."

A shadow of terror crossed his face.

"Please," she said, scooting closer. "I really want to see it."

Conflicting emotions ran through him. Terror because he had never bared himself in front of a girl before, joy because he _wanted_ her to see it. He nodded. "O-Okay."

With fumbling fingers, he unzipped his jeans. Ronnie leaned over to see, her heart pounding and her eyes wide. He lifted up and pulled his pants (and his cute red briefs) down just enough for it to pop out. When he settled down, Ronnie's eyes widened, and her loins quivered. She had never seen a penis outside of a textbook, so she couldn't say if it was big or not, she _could,_ however, say that it was beautiful: From the crowed head down to the blue vein along the side; it pulsed with every beat of his heart.

She glanced up at him and grinned. He looked nervous. "Do you like it?" he asked.

"I _love_ it," she panted. She reached out and brushed her fingertips across the tip: It jerked under her touch and Lincoln's breath hitched. _Wow,_ she marveled, I _did that to him._ She wrapped her hand around it and ran her thumb along the opening. It came away sticky.

Lincoln was gasping through clenched teeth now, his eyes narrow. He was more beautiful in that moment than she had ever seen him before.

She swallowed, her throat dry. Suddenly, she wanted to put him in her mouth; she wanted to taste him and run her tongue along his quivering length. She wanted to do other things to him, too; a _lot_ of other things,

She looked into his eyes as she started to stroke gently up and down. His breaths were coming in ragged gasps and his eyelids fluttered. God, he was so sexy. She wanted to mount him right there. Instead, she squeezed as she brought her hand up, and he let out a mewl that made her smile.

"How does that feel?" she asked.

He threw his head back nodded. "So good."

She ran her thumb along his underside, and he squirmed, his fingernails clawing mindlessly at the plastic. She shifted to the side and bent down so that his pulsating head was inches from her face. His heat and his smell washed over her. It was a wild scent, musky and masculine; Ronnie let out a shivery breath and squeezed her legs together. She looked up at Lincoln. He was watching her, his chest heaving.

Biting her bottom lip, she said, "I love you."

"I love you too."

With that, she lowered her head and took him in her mouth: He let out a long moan as her lips formed around him and she slid slowly down. When she reached his base and felt him tickling the back of her throat, she lifted her head almost to his top, then plunged down again. His taste was even more intoxicating than his smell. Beads of his essence leaked into her mouth, and she shivered at the salty taste against her tongue. Her girlhood was burning hot and she could no longer take it. She needed him.

She pulled back one final time, a long, thin strand of drool (or something else?) connecting her bottom lip to his member. He was panting; his face was beet red and his body trembled.

"My mom and Bobby aren't home," she said, "if you want to go back to my house."

Lincoln nodded. "Please?"

She bit her lip. "Race you there."

* * *

Football, basketball, baseball, soccer...they were running out of sports, yet Lucy was adamant they continue. Lynn was exhausted. "Where do you get the energy?" she asked. They were sitting side-by-side on the back step, Lynn clutching a Gateroade in her hand and Lucy sipping a juice box.

"I don't know," Lucy said. "Pent-up, I guess?"

"That wouldn't surprise me," Lynn admitted. "You just sit there and read all the time. Do you feel really energetic sometimes?"

"Kind of."

"What do you do for it?"

"I go for walks."

Lynn cocked her eyebrow. "Walks? I've never seen you go for a walk."

"Because I do it at night," Lucy replied, putting the straw between her lips and sucking cold apple juice into her mouth. "When everyone else is asleep."

Lynn gaped. "You sneak out?"

"I guess you could say that," she said. "Although I wouldn't call it 'sneaking.' I just walk out the front door."

She slurped more juice.

Lynn couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Lucy, that's really dangerous. There are a lot of sick people in this world. What if someone kidnapped you?"

"I have protection."

Lynn snickered. "What?"

Lucy reached into her dress pocket and pulled out a knife. With a flick of the wrist, it sprang open: The blade was wickedly sharp with serrated teeth along one side. Lynn recoiled. "Jesus, Lucy, where'd you get that thing?"

"The store."

Lynn sighed. "Alright, fine, if you wanna walk around at night, be my guest, but I'm going to teach you self-defense."

"Okay," Lucy said and stood up. "Let's go."

"Not right this minute," Lynn said. "I'm bushed."

"Oh," Lucy said, and sat. For a while they simply stared out at the shafts of sunlight dancing across the backyard. Lucy stole a sidelong glance at her sister, her eyes lingering on her strong jaw, her upturned nose, her soft, freckled cheeks. She sighed dejectedly and looked away.

"What's the matter?" Lynn asked.

"Nothing," Lucy said quickly.

Lynn knew her sister well enough to know that there was, in fact, something wrong. "Yes there is."

"Honestly, I'm fine."

Lynn nudged her arm. "Come on, Luce, spit it out."

Lucy sat her juice box between her legs and turned so that she faced Lynn. Though she was outwardly placid, inside, her heart beat crazily against her ribcage and her stomach clenched tightly. So many nights she had laid awake fantasizing about telling her how she loved her, how she loved her strength and her courage and her tenacity and her determination. She yearned to tell her sister how she felt, but deep down, she thought she never would.

Sighing, Lucy bowed her head. She had to do this...but _could_ she?

"Hey," Lynn said, touching her chin and tilting her head up. Her eyes were soft and filled with concern. "What? You can tell me anything, Luce. I'm your sister."

Lucy opened her mouth, but could feel her resolve flagging. Mustering all the bravery she could (pretending she was Lynn and that she had an endless supply), she leaned forward and kissed her sister. Lynn went stiff as Lucy's lips touched hers, as Lucy's tongue flicked across her mouth, seeking admittance.

For a moment Lucy expected Lynn to push her away in disgust, but then her lips parted and Lucy's tongue slipped inside. Lynn kissed her back, her hand fluttering to Lucy's delicate throat. When the kiss broke, Lynn's eyes were wide and her cheeks were scarlet.

Lucy swallowed, the taste of her sister's mouth lingering on her tongue. "I'm in love with you," she said, finding the words difficult to speak. "I have been for a long time." Even though she knew that Lynn could not see her eyes through her bangs, Lucy looked away. "I love how strong and brave you are, I love how you always take charge and never give up. I love everything about you and I hate it when you cry and you're sad. I want to make you happy and love you and..."

She stopped speaking when Lynn took her hand. She looked up into her sister's eyes, and for a moment they simply stared at each other. Then, slowly, Lynn leaned in, and they kissed again, slower, more passionately. Lucy didn't know how long the kiss lasted, how long their tongues made delicate love to each other...it could have been hours, it could have been days...but when it was over, she snuggled against Lynn's chest, a shiver of delight running down her spine when her sister's strong arms wrapped themselves around her. She pressed her ear against Lynn's breast, and listened to the crazy beat of her heart, a Cheshire cat smile spreading across her lips.

* * *

Lincoln won the race, reaching Ronnie's house a full minute before she did; when she pulled up, he was standing by her front door with his arms crossed, his foot tapping. "About time you showed up," he said.

"If I didn't have to stop at that intersection, I'd have smoked you," she said, jumping off her bike and letting it fall to the ground. She came up the steps and brushed past him. "You got lucky. Just remember that."

She inserted a key into the lock and opened the door. It wasn't until Lincoln was inside, with the door shut and locked behind him, that his stomach twisted with nerves. Ronnie kicked out of her shoes and unzipped her hoodie. "I think you were right," she said, "it's too hot for a hoodie today."

She looked at him and grinned devilishly. She stepped into his arms, and they kissed, her hands sliding under his shirt; they were warm against his gurgling stomach. Their tongues clumsily fondled one another. She broke the kiss and smirked up at him, her tongue sliding across her bottom lip; for some reason that made Lincoln shiver.

"My room," she said. She took his hand and wove her fingers through his. Lincoln's heart was crashing and his rod ached between his legs.

Ronnie led him to her room and shut the door. Lincoln's eyes darted around. Her bed was unmade, things were lying on the floor. It looked a lot like his room; though he had been in here a million times before, it looked somehow different.

Ronnie moved past him and sat on the edge of the bed. Lincoln's eyes caressed her, starting at her soft brown eyes and travelling south to her socked feet. She lifted an eyebrow. "Like what you see?" she asked.

Lincoln nodded dumbly, and she laughed. "Well come here then."

He went and sat next to her. She turned to him, bringing one knee up. "I...I've never done anything like this before," she said.

"Neither have I."

She took a deep breath. "And I've never _wanted_ to. Until I met you." She slightly bowed her head. "You're special to me, Lincoln." She took his hands and lifted her eyes to his. "I really do love you."

"I love you too," he said. She smiled softly, and he leaned in for a kiss. They moved together, Ronnie lying back against her pillow and Lincoln following, their lips never breaking. He gasped when she wrapped her legs around his waist and drew him against her; his bulge rubbed between her legs, and she shuddered. She kissed him desperately then, her tongue filling and probing his mouth. For a while they stayed this way, both of them oblivious to the world around them.

When the kiss broke again, Lincoln leaned back while Ronnie stripped her shirt off: His jaw went slack when he saw her budding breasts, the nipples topping each slight mound rigid and brown. "Hey, jackass," she giggled, "my eyes are up here."

"I know where your eyes are," he said, continuing to stare at her breasts.

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts, and Lincoln sat aside as she pulled them down, his heart stopping and warmth spreading through him when her pink, hairless sex was revealed. An uncertain look crossed her face. "Do you like it?" she asked.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, and she giggled. He put one tentative hand on her leg, just above the cuff of her sock. She grazed her teeth along her bottom lip. Lincoln was shaking, his insides like jelly. He ran his hand up her leg, tracing the swell of her thigh. She watched him intently, her chest rapidly rising and falling. He reached her hip, then, licking his dry lips, he moved across her stomach. She jerked. "That tickles," she said, "but it feels _so_ good."

His hand crept lower, across her pubic mound. Her skin tightened. She was in his hand now, her wet heat making him dizzy.

"Oh, Lincoln," she sighed.

He could barely breathe now. He moved his hand lower, and his middle finger sank into the crease between her lips. She gasped and squeezed her eyes closed, her teeth bared as if in agony.

"Does that hurt?" he worried.

She tossed her head back and forth.

He moved even lower, and found her center, her core, the opening to her soul. His hand froze and he looked up at her; an expression of rapture crossed her freckled face, and Lincoln felt a welling of pride. He slowly and gently, ever so gently, slid his finger into her. She jumped and grabbed handfuls of the blanket. Inside, she was moist and hot and like silk. He pushed deeper, and a moan escaped her lips. His member pressed against his pants; he was lightheaded, drunk on her.

He took his finger out and fumbled with the zipper of his pants. Ronnie watched him with half-lidded eyes. When the zipper was free, he slid out of them and his underwear; his dick was so hot he could feel the heat radiating off of it. Would it burn when they did it? There was so much _heat_ between the two of them.

Not caring if it burnt to a crisp, he mounted her, his head pressing against her inner thigh. He propped his arms on either side of her shoulders. She stared up at him with big, loving eyes, her breath hot against his face. He stroked her cheek. "You're so beautiful, do you know that?"

Ronnie nodded. "You _make_ me feel beautiful."

He leaned down and kissed the tip of her upturned nose. "I love you."

"I love _you_."

He guided himself to her opening and pressed against it: Sultry fire wafted against him, and his breath caught. She opened her legs wider, her knees on either side of his chest.

For a moment he didn't move, he simply basked in the moment. He was going to do it. He was going to make love to Ronnie Anne Santiago, the girl he had loved from the moment he first laid his eyes on her, she of the shiny black hair, liquid dark eyes, and creamy caramel skin. One push was all it would take to bind her to him, and him to her, to unite their souls and their bodies and their hearts.

He leaned slightly forward as he pushed past her quivering lips and took her hand in his. She let out a breathy sigh and arched her hips up, sheathing him with a moan. Her damp satin walls rippled around him, her muscles clenched against him. She threw her head back and let out a small cry. His fingers slipped through hers. He pulled back, and surged forward again; she molded around him, becoming tighter, hotter, _wetter_. She looked at him, and he leaned in, taking her lower lip between both of his.

Together they rocked in a dance as old as time, their pants and moans rising and mingling. Ronnie wrapped her legs around him and drew him closer, wanting, needing to be filled with him. He looked down at her, his eyes shining like lamps in the dark. She stroked his cheek. _I'm so...uh...lucky to...oh...have him...ahhhh_. His head scraped against her walls; his ridge flicked that special bundle of nerves, and her mind exploded with passion. _Jesus, yes, it's so much better than I imagined_.

She looked up at him with those dark, narrowed eyes, and he nearly lost control. She was beautiful, perfect, a princess, a queen, the ruler of his heart and the mistress of his spirit.

Ronnie's orgasm formed quickly, a building pressure in her stomach that expanded until it threatened to consume her. She held it back, though, because she didn't want this moment to end, she wanted to one with Lincoln forever. His started in his loins and burned deep in the pit of his stomach like molten lead. Like Ronnie, he did not want the moment to end. They were joined together in perfect harmony, one breath, one whisper, one heartbeat, and to break such a holy union was sacrilege. He could not hold back forever, though. It began to rush forward like a boulder tumbling downhill, and there was no stopping it. He squeezed Ronnie's hand tight and kissed her as he swelled in her and burst, his magma seed shooting against the opening of her womb. She cried out and held him as her orgasm swept through her.

For a long time he lay on top of her, his face buried in the crook of her neck and her hands resting on his flexing shoulder blades. Their skin was tacky with sweat, and they stuck together like Velcro.

Finally, he rolled off and lay next to her. They were still holding hands.

"Did you like that?" she asked finally.

He glanced at her. "Yeah. I did."

"Good," she giggled, "so did I." She propped herself up on one elbow and touched the tip of his nose. "Lincy-boo-boo-bear."

* * *

In the ethereal light of the full harvest moon, a girl slips out of her bed, crosses the room on bare feet, and slides under the covers next to her sister, who stirs and turns. In a cold shaft of moonlight, Lynn's eyes are dark and muddled with sleep.

"It's just me," Lucy says.

"Hi," Lynn says sleepily, and takes Lucy in her arms.

"Hi," Lucy replies around a tiny smile. In her big sister's arms, she feels safe and warm...protected even.

In minutes, snuggled against her sister, she is asleep.

Before Lynn, too, drops off, she muses on her situation. She sought love in her brother's arms, but found it in her sister's. Isn't life funny?

With a smile playing on her lips, Lynn, too, sleeps.


End file.
